DEAD Silence
by HopefulAuthor1805
Summary: What happens when you and your team are left in one of the most populated countries in the world when They come along? What will you do to keep everyone alive? Rated M for everything possible. All OC. Now accepting OCs. Recommended to read at 1/2 width.
1. Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD Part I

A/N: I do not own Highschool of the DEAD

* * *

DEAD Silence

Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD.

**Three years before Z-Day.**

_Somewhere in Afghanistan._

A trio of UH-60 Blackhawks begin landing at a small base at the break of dawn, its' crewmen taking care even in the safety of friendly territory. A lone figure in fatigues steps out of a tent, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As the rotors of the helicopters slowly come to a stop, the passengers within begin to exit and gather while the rest of the FOB stirs to life.

The figure walks up to the gathering of men and women, some of whom are armed and greets them, "Welcome to FOB Hope. Where's the Team Leader?"

"Here!" shouts someone from the back of the group. A man in his mid-thirties steps forward. The two stare at each other for a while before they break out into grins and begin hugging one another. "It's good to see you after all this time Julius."

"Good to see you again Fred. I trust Argentina was good?" asked Julius.

"It was ok. Lost Otis and Dana but we nailed the group the CIA and Interpol were after."

"Ah. Sorry to hear that. At least they died doing what they enjoyed and a time of their choice."

"Yeah. Just…it's always…you know?"

"I understand. C'mon, let's get you and team inside. It's going to be a long six months for you out here."

ooooo

**Two years before Z-Day.**

_Seraph International Main Headquarters, London._

Fredrick Sole stands at five-foot-ten, weighs around seventy kilos and is in his mid-thirties. He has been shot a total of ten times on four separate occasions and still is alive to tell the tale. He has been cross-trained with some of the best Special Forces in the world.

As a teen, he attained the third highest belt in the three martial arts of his choice, was the high school football hero, obtained good grades and had exceptional social skills. He spent his summers like every other teen as well as learning new languages and cultures and helping out the local charities.

He joined the Armed Forces just to prove his parents wrong. He was a Lieutenant before signing off with the Army and later joined a PMC. In both, he was respected. He is confident. He is still in his prime. He is still fit as a fiddle.

Yet, he sits in the metal foldable chair feeling nervous and ever so impatient. Across him, five individuals in business suits sit in practical chairs behind a long wooden table in silence. The sound of paper being shuffled to and fro between the five drives Fred a little nuts but not enough to make him say anything.

Finally, the silence is broken. "Mr Sole. My colleagues and I are here today to pass the Board's decision. May I remind you, we have delayed this for six months just to wait for you to recover fully from the injuries you received. Keep this in mind; you are deemed an extremely valuable asset to us. However, the incident in which has brought us to this little meeting cannot be overlooked. So, we are going to give you two choices.

You first choice is to pay for the damages and loss of valuable assets which, may I inform you, are exceptionally high. You second choice is to accept the assignment I have here in my hand. Either way, you are not going to get off easily."

Fred sits in silence as the suit speaks. He processes everything the suit has said. And he comes to a conclusion. Things don't add up.

"Why is the Board offering me another job after I basically fuck up the last one? I can understand paying but not the job."

"It's simple Mr Sole. Someone up top likes you and this is an assignment all of the other Team Leaders have turned down. My advice? Looking at your record, the assignment is the lesser of two evils. Even if you found a way to pay, the board will find a way to get to you. So, take the assignment."

Fred contemplates what the suit says. "Where's the OA of the assignment?"

"I assume you're going to take it then?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really. Claire, do mention Mr Sole accepted the assignment. Thank you love."

"Again, where's the OA?"

"China, Mr Sole. _China_," the suit replies with a smirk.

ooooo

**Z-Day.**

_Serpah International private docks, Shanghai._

A convoy of black SUVs and military trucks pull up into the empty loading bay of the private docks. A trio of warships can be seen just over the sunset horizon. The docks are soon a bustle of activity as the desire for safety aboard the warships drives them.

Fred jumps out one of the trucks and motions for his entire team to assemble around him. He looks at the tired and grimy faces of his team. His second-in-command, Katy Miller looks at him and tilts her head to motion she wants to speak to him in a minute or two.

"Take a knee ladies and gents. I'm going to make this quick. Priority is to get the non-combatant VIPs and staff off these docks and onto the Strike. The Dagger, Blitz and Blast are twelve klicks out and will stop once they're a klick out. RIBs and Seahawks will be deployed and used to ferry everyone out of this hell hole. Depending on the number of trips it's gonna take, we're to hold out till then.

Now, I know the situation we are in is unbelievable but it's happening. Our assignment is to keep these people safe and we are not failing it. Shield Five formation, weapons free. Report anything on the comms and I mean anything immediately then only start shooting. Let's get this done team. Are we going to fail?"

"Fuck no!" replied the entire team and dispersed. Everyone except Katy.

"Problem Katy?"

"Well Fred. We had to abandon our Regional HQ, lost almost all our Primaries and half of the Secondaries. We're low on ammo, running on last night's dinner fumes and pretty shell-shocked about the situation we're in. Nope. Not a single fucking problem Fred."

"Look. I know this isn't a normal cluster fuck but we're in it now. Yes, we're pretty much what you said we are but so as long as the orders stand, we get whatever that is left of our Primaries and Secondaries outta here. And then let's get the hell out of dodge eh?" Fred, grinning like an idiot, sticks out little finger for a pinky promise.

"Right boss," answers a smiling Katy, linking her little finger and sealing the deal. "I'm going to hold you to this."

His earpiece crackles to life with one of his team members saying, "Contact left! Opening fire!"

The sounds of gunfire could be heard to the left of Fred. He knew his team were professionals in every way but he said it anyways, "Everyone stay frosty! It's gonna be a long night!"

* * *

A/N: I just couldn't help myself! Seeing so many FF, I decided to give it a try. It's been an idea bouncing around my head for a while. Please leave a review.


	2. Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD Part II

A/N:To ChaoticCrazy, sure go ahead and send me a PM of your OC! Be sure to include how he/she behaves, speaks and preferred weapon to avoid me going OOC with your OC.

I do not own Highschool of the DEAD.

* * *

DEAD Silence

Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD.

**Z-Day+1**

_Concrete perimeter wall of Seraph International private docks, Shanghai._

"Red!" shouted Brendan Michael Swartzlander, age twenty-four, as he swapped the empty magazine for another magazine filled with 5.56x45mm rounds into the G36C he was using. "Green!"

He takes a quick glance to his left and sees the grim and determined faces of the members of his fireteam. To his immediate left Angelique 'Yeux' Lamoureaux, age twenty-five, the ever cool dark-skinned and voluptuous French markswoman of his team firing the M39 EMR with precise accuracy.

Next to her is Austin Gibbs, the eccentric Scottish machine gunner and go-to-guy for demolitions, with his beloved gift from the boys in the SAS, a modified Minimi LMG. He was firing in bursts not just to save whatever little ammo he had left but to keep the gun from overheating too quickly.

And right next to him is the fireteam leader, Thomas 'Wildcat' Cassidy Jones, an American who has a little Red Indian and Texas Ranger blood in him, calmly firing the United States Armed Forces staple assault rifle, the M16A4 with the underslung M320 Grenade Launcher.

Brendan, for that very second, wished he was somewhere else except here but quickly banishes that thought and returns firing. The sound of gunfire does not faze him or any of his fellow colleagues one bit but the moans and groans of the ever relentless contacts they shot at was slowly unnerving him.

'_Simple job they said. Protect some scared politicians they said. Walk in the park they said. I'm going to smack those two when and if we get out of here and back to London_,' he thought as he mentally gave his two closest friends who were in London the middle finger as he reloaded once more. "Red!"

"_Bordel de merde_!" cursed Angelique as she reloaded her rifle. "Red! They seem to be coming out of nowhere! Green!"

"I widae agreed wid ya if I wasn't so busy trying to keep this 'ere ell-am-gee from overheating," Austin said just to lighten the mood. Brendan and Angelique light-heartedly as they continued firing.

"Shut it you three. Bet you didn't notice the group coming from our two o'clock," Thomas called out to his team. Amidst all their cursing as they redistributed their fire to the new threat, he pressed his earpiece a little closer to his ear as the Team Leader gave new orders.

"Take cover. Firing a live one!" was all he said before he fired the M320. The sound of a live 40mm grenade going off gives them a ringing in their ears. The one thing that unnerves them a little is the sound multiple thuds of something wet and soft hitting the ground and distant moaning. "Everyone okay?"

"A wee bit more warning next time will ya Wildcat?"

"Yeah, what the Scotsman said."

"_Putain, vous êtes dingue_? You could've made us deaf for life!"

"Good, you're all alive and bitching. That was Lead. We're to regroup, distribute some ammo the boys from the Blast brought along and tighten the security perimeter. All copy?"

"Copy," replied the three of them. The four of them checked their firezones before withdrawing from their temporary defence line. All the while the distant moaning grew louder slowly as their assailants grew closer.

ooooo

_Whereas at an impromptu communications area._

"Say again, Captain?" Fred shouted back into his mike. He did not want to sound rude to the captain of the Strike but it was necessary as the backwash of air from the Seahawks and the roar of the RIBs was pretty damn loud.

"_I repeat...not take too many passengers. We…ve refugees as well as som…king members of the Chinese gov…bably take your Primaries and Secondaries. Maybe half of your te…t's it. Copy?_"

"Copy, Captain. If I may speak freely, load of fucking bollocks and shit if you ask me. Alright. Primaries and Secondaries are to be evacced." Fred did not like what the captain had said but he understood. He started making a list of who he'd send as well as some supplies he could probably get from the Blast or maybe even the Blitz.

"I'll send some members of my team up too, especially the green ones. I'll also send a request for some supplies from either the Blast or the Blitz. That all good with you, Captain?"

"_Sounds good Team Leader. The Strike will de…wood Military Port back in E…if the higher ups back there send u…diately, it will take us two wee…hink you can last that long? Copy_?"

"Copy, Captain. Fuck!" cursed Fred as he kicked a nearby trash can. "That's a long time to wait for an evac. No other way?"

"_You co…ke it to Shanghai Pudong International Airport. Last I heard, we sti…birds flying off. Not sure if its…ours, the PLA or the CAAC. Copy_?"

"Copy, Captain. That sounds like a good idea though I'm sure we all know those areas are fucking death traps in these kinds of situation."

"Who knows? We've only seen…happening. Might not be true."

"I wouldn't bet against it. Thanks Matt. I'll buy you a cold one when we get back to HQ."

"_Don't sweat it Fr…ke sure you get yourse…ryone else back. Strike out._"

Fred sighed loudly and looked around him. Over the din of the helicopters, RIBs and people moving, he wondered, '_Can I really get everyone out of here_?' He looks at his watch and it shows him its already two in the morning. '_Fuck. We've been at this for over a day. I won-_'

Fred's thoughts were interrupted when Katy prodded him in the back. "Hey boss. Everyone's more or less here getting resupplied. Anything you need to say before they head out in five?"

"Yeah. I got something to tell them. Shit, I might even need them to make a decision."

ooooo

Fred looked over his team. He knows they are tired if not pissed and exhausted. He knows they're running on nothing but last night's dinner and adrenaline. And now he has to decide who gets the golden ticket back to HQ. "Boys and girls, I have good news and bad news. Good news is that our Primaries and Secondaries are more or less safe. Bad news is we aren't."

Fred mentally grimaces as a portion of his team groan, bitch and curse. He looks and sees that the squad leaders all understand the situation, having been in the same situation before, and just nod back at him. '_Then again, the reason I picked them as squad leaders is cause they've been to Hell and back with me or back with their own units_.'

"So, this is what I'm going to do. Those with kids ages twelve to just expecting and those with spouses for less than a year, you're outta here. No arguments about it," he quickly adds when he sees the mouth of those under either of the two categories begin to open. "It's not company policy but hell, it is this unit's policy. Ain't that damn right squad and fireteam leaders?"

"Damn right!" answered the elected ten men.

"There you go! So, those Ms Miller here calls out, get the fuck out of here, say hello to your families for us and cherish them will you?"

"Harriett, Alana, Yuki, Brendan, Jamie, Clayton, Hugh, Tahani and Sascha. Grab your gear and haul ass!"

ooooo

"Harriett, Alana, Yuki, Brendan, Jamie, Clayton, Hugh, Tahani and Sascha. Grab your gear and haul ass!"

Brendan froze for a while. '_How they know my wife's expecting again? Shit_.' And for a second or two, he ponders what could he do. No, rather what he should do.

"Team Leader! Permission to stay, sir!" he shouts. '_I am a husband and a dad of one girl plus one. It's my job to protect my precious gals, no matter how far the threat._'

He sees his Team Leader look at his XO and then his squad leader before looking at him. "Denied," he answered. "Look, I know you mean well but you have a little girl and an expecting wife. Don't look surprised, the company keeps records so it can fill out the appropriate paper work when needed. I just take the time to read them too."

"But sir, I-"

Fred cuts him off, "No. My call. Not yours." He looks at Brendan's squad leader who nods in acknowledgement.

ooooo

Thomas feels his squad leader tap him on the shoulder as he whispers, "The pups' need their parent." He nods in understanding and pulls out his retractable stun baton and walks behind Brendan.

"Sorry," was all Brendan heard before he felt something jab him in the back followed by a huge shock. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

* * *

A/N:I like my guns. And keeping families together. Or do I?

A couple of acronyms readers might not get:

EMR – Enhanced Marksman Rifle

PLA – Peopl's Liberation Army (China's armed forces)

CAAC – Civil Air Administration of China

RIB – Rigid-hulled Inflatable Boat

Yes, Fred refers to the person in charge of the Strike as Captain even though I might imply the Strike is the lead ship in a naval task force. It's more of a courtesy since in real navies, the head honcho of such elements are at the least Rear Admirals (lower half), Commodores or Flotilla Admirals. These guys are PMCs or mercenaries as I like to call them. Some of them (in the future) keep their old rank and like to be called by it but its more of a personal preference then anything. I'm sure the use of actual naval ranks are also a preference. And the company they work for has big money. Like big, big money to buy a small private fleet of decommissioned and privately funded built ships as well as a couple of jets, bombers and airplanes. Like I said, big, big money.

Please leave a review.


	3. Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD Part III

A/N: Thank you ChaoticCrazy for submitting you OC! Guess I'm accepting OCs now? Will try to place them in whenever I can. Just so happens his OC fits the bill for this chapter.

I do not own Highschool of the DEAD

* * *

DEAD Silence

Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD.

**Z-Day+1**

_Seraph International private docks, Shanghai._

"Alright! That's the last bird. If you're not busy, wave goodbye. If you're busy shooting the motherfuckers rushing at you, keep shooting!" Fred shouted into his mike over the din of gunfire. Within the last few minutes of the evacuation, the perimeter was breached and he had to pull the defensive line closer to the evacuation point. "Grenades!"

Everyone either took cover or made their body profile smaller as those armed with underslung and handheld grenade launchers took aim and fired. The sound was deafening as the grenades went off.

"Sound off!" shouted Katy as the ringing in her ears, and hopefully everyone else, slowly subsided.

As everyone checked in with his XO, Fred looked past the smoke and dust brought about by the liberal use of explosives so close to his team. '_Shit. At least another hundred out there and closing a little bit too fast. And that's just from what I can see of the front gate. Great._'

"Fred, everyone's okay 'cept for Bill and Andrei. They're a little bit deaf right now but the medics say their hearing should be back within the next day or two."

"Okay. Katy, I count possibly hundred and up contacts coming down the MSR. How long do you think it'll take us to stow everything into the trucks and be good to drive off?"

Katy grimaced. Fred knew it was probably going to be a bad answer but he waited for one still. "A good forty at the least. Twenty if we just haphazardly chuck them in."

Fred pondered his options and made a snap decision, praying it was the right choice. "Put them in order. I'd rather spend time getting the shit sorted out that having to do it later. I'll set shooters up to buy us that time."

"Right boss. I'll get loading and," she reached out, lightly tapped Fred on his nose, "you start setting up the shooters. If I go down, you'll be the first one I come back from the dead to haunt."

"Yes ma'am," Fred replies with a smirk. Turning to his remaining members of his team, "Shooters, upfront and centre. Got a job for you."

ooooo

Geoffrey Kuribayashi Dees, age twenty-eight, thinks about the plan Fred had laid out for remaining eight shooters, seven marksmen and one markswoman. '_It's a good plan but the areas he wants us to set up shop have too many blind spots._'

He raises his hand as he makes his suggestion, "Sir. The plans all good and all but there's too many blind spots we won't cover. May I make a suggestion, sir?"

"Go ahead Mr Dees," his CO replies with a nod of his head.

Geoffrey points to the water tower a good kilometre from their current position. "That has full view and coverage of the OA. You would also need at the most four shooters on top of that thing."

"Mr Dees, you picked the ideal position for any scenario," his CO slowly says as he begins to rub his temples. "Except this one. I would've done exactly what you had said. But it would take you around ten minutes to be all set and another ten to get the hell off that thing. If we were to make one hell of a hot exit, which I'm sure we will, those four will have three options; have one hell of a time to get to us in time, walk to a rendezvous point or…"

His CO does not finish his sentence because everyone knows what the last option was. "Well then sir, you've got no choice then. Send me."

ooooo

"Well then sir, you've got no choice then. Send me."

Fred's train of thought is derailed for a moment before it goes back on track. He looks at Geoffrey. "Are you sure? Look me in the eyes and say it."

"Send me sir. I can do it," Geoffrey replies with a straight face.

Fred looks at Geoffrey's squad leader who just shrugs. The squad leader then signals, using hand motion, '_Wildcard. Always. You picked. No say._' Fred shakes his head and sighs in exasperation.

"Okay but not without someone watching you back. Ms Lamoureaux, go with Mr Dees and make sure you both come back to us alive. That's an order."

"Sir!"

"Okay. New plan. Two shooters on top of water tower. Everyone else forms a perimeter," Fred quickly says as he looks at everyone's face, stopping last at Geoffrey's. "Are we going to fail?"

"Fuck no!"

ooooo

_Water tower No. 115_

Against the black sky of the late night sky, one would not be able to spot the two trained shooters climbing up the water tower.

Angelique looks up as she and Geoffrey climb the ladder leading to the top of the water tower. "Where did you get that rifle?" she asks the man of mixed heritage climbing above her.

"This?" Geoffrey asks as he gestures at his MPi-KM. "A gift from some fellas in the Spetsnaz when I was stationed in Russia."

"No. Not that brute of a rifle. The M21. Maple wood, modified Harris bipod and a custom tactical scope?"

"Yes," answers Geoffrey. He's a little surprised someone could tell his grandfather's rifle was made of maple wood, let alone the modified bipod and custom scope he had ordered and attached himself. "Inheritance. Grandfather. Vietnam."

"Ah. A seasoned rifle._ Puisse-t-il tirer droit et juste_."

"What?"

"Something like good luck. Err. Like an arrow flying and hitting its target."

"I see. Any idea why Lead picked you to babysit me?"

"_Bien sûr_! I'm like a good luck charm for all you lone wolf types."

Geoffrey can't help but laugh at her answer. "I don't need it. I've always comeback alive from all these 'suicidal' objectives."

"Ah, that may be true but there is more at stake here than just your life."

"Whatever. Too much talking. Job. Focus." Geoffrey was getting a little bit tired of talking. '_And here I was hoping she would be a quiet one._'

"We're at the top now," grunts Geoffrey as he pulls himself up onto the walkway. "Here, let me help you."

"_Merci_," Angelique thanks him as he pulls her up. As she preps her rifle, she takes in the view below and ahead of her. "Should we handle the ones closest to us or begin to engage the ones furthest?"

"Furthest," he replies as he begins to calibrate his scope and draws its crosshairs over his first target. "Guys on the ground should be able to handle those that are already close by." He follows his target, slowly pulling the trigger all the while. When his rifle barks and the recoil bumps him a little, his target is down. A perfect hole in the middle of its head.

Geoffrey confirms his kill before lining up his next shot. Next to him , Angelique's M39 barks just as loud as his rifle. And just like earlier, another perfect hole, another downed target. The two of them repeat their actions over and over like a mantra. Their faces expressionless. The faces of trained marksmen. The sound of their rifles touching their targets out in the distance was the only sound save for they call out when reloading.

Their repertoire is interrupted by the crackle of their earpieces. "_Lead here. Good job. It's pretty clear down here. Now haul ass and get back here._" Both shooters stand up and keep their gear quickly, efficiently. Just as Geoffrey begins to hop onto the ladder and begin his descent down, Angelique grabs his vest and pulls him.

"_Merde, attend_s! Look down!"

He looks down to see a group of fifty waiting for them at the base of the water tower. "Well fuck." He taps his ear piece and relays the bad news. "Lead, Dees here. Group of fifty at the base. Can't get down. How copy?"

"_Copy. Fifty. Base. Can't get down. Standby."_

ooooo

"Copy. Fifty. Base. Can't get down. Standby," Katy replied. She looks at Fred and sees him sitting on a discarded crate, holding his head.

"Fucking A. Just when the fan with the fucking shit stops spinning, someone turns on another fucking fan with shit on it. Fucking A." He looks around, thinking of a solution. He turns to Katy, "Got any ideas?"

"Nope."

"I do sir."

Fred turns to see one of the truck drivers, Nelson Catchings, age twenty two, standing with one foot in the cab, the other on the steps. "Mr Catchings, you have an idea?"

"You might not like it, sir."

"I'm all ears."

ooooo

"I can try to shoot us an area clear enough to hit and start running," Geoffrey suggests.

"Really now? And how many rounds do you have left for that assault rifle of yours?"

"Half a magazine and three more. I can use my pistol too. Got a full clip and five more." He was growing a little irritated.

"Unfortunately, our group of fifty is slowly growing to be a clusterfuck."

Irritated, Geoffrey tries to Angelique to agree to his plan. He adds, "I can also use the M21 to-"

"No. You Americans and your gun-ho attitude. _C'est un miracle _your armies keep winning. Just wait for them to get us."

Pissed, he exasperatedly raises his arms and says, "You heard what the Team Leader said. Three options. No other-"

Whatever else Geoffrey was trying to say was cut off suddenly as the tower lurched a little. Not a lot but enough to surprise the two of them.

Geoffrey stares at Angelique and she likewise does the same. "_Sacré bleu_! Lead, get here quick. I think the tower's going to collapse!"

* * *

A/N: Now, yes. He could try shooting Them down but at this point in time, all the mercs still don't know that They are attracted to noise (partly why they still liberally use grenades and unsilenced weapons).

Also, if you may have noticed, I have yet to get anyone to say zombie, Them or undead (except the part where Katy tells Fred if she dies, she's coming for him. One can assume as a vengeful spirit or ghost. Or zombie. Does it matter?) Well, they will be deciding what to call Them later in the story.

And for those curious, no, the French translation or any future translations are not accurate as I am using Google-fucking-Translate. If someone has read the translations and finds it inaccurate or totally wrong, please PM me the correct translation.

Again, I am accepting OCs but will only be able to put them in whenever it is possible. Also, I'm looking for a Beta Reader. PM if interested!

As always, please leave a review.


	4. Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD Part IV

A/N: Thank you CMS101 for providing more accurate translations of what Angelique had meant. I hope you can continue helping correct the translations. Also, big thanks to ChaoticCrazy for showing support and agreement to how his OC has been written in.

I do not own Highschool of the DEAD

* * *

DEAD Silence

Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD.

**Z-Day+1**

_Loading bay, Seraph International private docks_

"Let me get this straight, Mr Catchings," Fred says as he begins rub his temples. Pointing at the water tower, "You want to ram the tower." He pauses momentarily, rubbing his temples furiously now. "And let those two fall into this?" he asks with much scepticism as he gestures at the improvised landing pad on the truck Nelson was to drive.

"I did mention you might not like it sir," the young mechanic answered. Nelson casts a sidlonge glance at Katy's direction only to find her giving him a sympathetic shrug and a half-smile.

"And can I ask what in the Devil's name are you doing with all this large packaging foam in the back of your truck?"

"Well sir, my truck's the designated carrier for all the other stuff we can't fit in the other trucks. XO Miller told me to make sure nothing gets mixed up or it's my nuts on the line," replies the already nervous Nelson as he throws another sidelong glance at his XO. "The foam's there to act like a divider."

Fred can't help laughing. Looking at Katy, "You told him that?"

She shrugs and grins. "Somewhere along those lines."

Shaking his head, thankful for something to have been laughing about, Fred contemplates his choices. "Okay. If I'm not mistaken, you and Ms Caprioli are the last two of Team C-2. Find her and go get those two off that tower."

"Sir!"

"Oh, Mr Catchings. One more thing. Try to keep everything and everyone in one piece."

ooooo

"Nel, is this really going to work?" asks the twenty-two year old Italian, Jennifer Grazia Caprioli. The five-foot-four brunette was once part of 17th Raiders Wing but everything she did there made sense and was conventional. 'As I much as I like him, what he's got planned is straight out of an action movie. And those work only because it's supposed to.'

"Jen, how many times do I have to say this? You doubted me in Argentina, Guatemala and even in Afghanistan. It'll work. Sheesh. I'm not one of the rare few who graduated from Harvard and Army Mechanical School before twenty for no reason you know. Trust me."

"Yeah but we're talking about ramming a forty meter high steel bar water tower which is probably holding about eighty thousand gallons of water. That's about three hundred tons. I hope you understand what those figures mean."

"Please. Is that all Jen?"

"Is that all? Is that all? Well, other than the fact that the damn thing can crush the truck, us and the two we're supposed to rescue, no, I don't think there's anything else I left out."

"Good. Now buckle up."

'_Pazzi Americani_!' was the last thing Jennifer thought before Nelson gunned the truck.

ooooo

_Water tower No. 115_

"You want us to what, sir?" asked an already exasperated Geoffrey. He asked his CO to explain what the extraction plan was and he could not believe what he had heard. The fact that the tower was also breaking as it slowly moved to one side did not help.

Angelique had also patched her receiver to the frequency he was using to communicate with Fred. A loud sound could be heard from a distance. She turned around and her eyes grew wide. "_Oh mon Dieu_. Too late, just grab hold of the rails!"

The sound of a straight-six diesel engine, roaring with all its might, grew louder as the truck, in reverse, approached the base of the water tower and the crowd gathered. It slammed into both at its maximum reverse speed, producing a sickening crunch and clanging of steel almost as loud as the engine. The tower began creaking louder. It even began to croak and moan as its steel base, now a mess, began to give way.

A shaken Jennifer popped her head of the passenger window. Looking up, she shouted, "Jump into the cargo section! Now!"

Geoffrey looks down. He sees the packaging foam but he has doubts whether it was safe to jump a height guaranteed to at least break something in his body. "No fucking wa-AAY!" The rest of his response is lost as Angelique pulls him by the vest. Dragging him along, she jumps.

They both land with a poof which sounded more like a thud. Looking behind, Jennifer asks, "You two ok?"

"_Rien de cassé_. Can't say the same for the American."

"You fucking crazy? Are you fucking crazy? We both could have fucking died!" shouted an angry Geoffrey. The urge to continue shouting at the Frenchwoman is cut short as the sound of a collapsing water tower grows louder. "Fuck! Drive idiot! Drive!"

ooooo

"Fuck! Drive idiot! Drive!"

"No need to tell me twice!" shouted back Nelson. He pressed his foot against the accelerator as hard as he could. Despite the powerful engine, the truck had lousy pick up. Looking in the rear view mirror, he could see the falling tower grow bigger every second.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours. By the breadth of a good solid inch, the water tank misses the rear end of the truck. The water it contained however came bursting out, soaking the two in the rear.

"Everyone okay back there?"

"I'm fucking soaked to the bone. How fucking alright do you think I am right now?"

Laughing, Nelson calls in the successful and somewhat crazy rescue to his CO.

ooooo

"All accounted for. Let's roll!" shouted Fred as he motions every truck to move out of the private docks. "Destination, Seraph International Chinese Regional HQ!"

* * *

A/N: I tried to think of a way of getting the two down. I wanted something crazy and very movie-esque. Which I did. Seems illogical but hey, it happened. Again, there's a tiny usage of Google Translate. Any mistranslation is greatly regretted. Again, I am accepting OCs and am looking for Beta Readers. Please PM me if interested in either! Act I is concluding soon.

As always, please leave a review.


	5. Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD Part V

A/N: Thank you ChaoticCrazy for the heads up. I'll try to make the chapters longer. I find a thousand words just somewhere between enough for readers to be kept entertained and just about my limit for me to write things up and put them down. (gives big cheesy grin)

Also, thank you CSM101 for giving the heads up on the translations. Google Translate told me that '_Oh mon bien_' was 'Oh my goodness'. Stupid translator.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, my readers, my reviewers, my critics, my silent observers, I give you the final part of Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD. Triple the usual word count. Hopefully, it closes of this act properly.

I do not own Highschool of the DEAD.

* * *

DEAD Silence

Act I: Mercenaries of the DEAD

**Z-Day+1**

_An apartment block in New York._

The former occupants of Room 413 lie dead in the middle of the living room. Their television is left turned on and tuned to the BCN channel. An anchorwoman comes into the view of the camera. Had she not looked so dishevelled and her eyes puffy, the anchorwoman with waist length hair could have passed off as pretty.

"_I am Jessie Bowsher. I am reporting to you live from GNN Headquarters here in Atlanta, Georgia. This will be our last live broadcast before we switch to the emergency information broadcast._

_A majority of the staff have died. They are now…z…z…zom…Them. All remaining surviving staff are here with me in the studio. We had to leave behind three of our fellow colleagues, one of whom is a senior correspondent here at BCN, who insisted they will buy us time so we can get this last broadcast out."_

She stops, takes a deep breath. Anyone could tell she was bracing herself for something. When she continues, there is a slight hint of sadness and regret in her voice.

"_To our families, we love and miss you so much. Please stay safe. Babe, if you can see this, please take care of Cassie and mom? I'm so sorry I never got a chance to you how much I truly love you. To our fellow colleagues still out in the field, stay safe, report the news and Godspeed. To all our viewers, we offer our deepest sympathies for those who have lost their loved ones as well as our prayers for those who continue to survive in this crisis."_

She looks off camera, nodding as someone gives her instructions as well as a heads up.

"_I will now switch over to a pre-recorded message by our now deceased Head of Security, Kurtis Adolphson._

"_Ah_. I don't think I've got much time left so hear me out. Shoot the *_bleep_* in the head. *_Bleep_*, I think anything that just destroys the head will do. Cut 'em off. Blow it to bits. Burn it. Just *_bleep_* make sure the head's gone.

Also, these *_bleep_* are attracted to sound. So for *_bleep_* sake, stay the *_bleep_* quiet if you want to live. Shooting them is good and all but it attracts a lot of these *_bleep_*. Maybe silenced weapons or melee is a good choice. I don't know. I'm not feeling so good.

_Hah. Ergh_. Another thing. If these *_bleep_* bite you, you're *_bleep_*. First sign is you start to go pale real quick. That's the only warning before you just bleed out of every *bleep* hole and die. Course, a couple minutes later, you'll be back the *bleep* up. Just not yourself.

My advice if you get bit? _Ergh. Ah. Hah_. Get someone to do you in or do it yourself. Better knowing who you are then being a mindless *bleep* wanting to bite out of the next *bleep* you see.

_Gah_. As you can see and guess by now, I've been bitten. My name is Kurtis Adolphson. I have no regrets._"_

_Mr Adolphson took his own life. He however ensured the safety of his juniors as well as the people working here. Without him, I doubt many of us would be here in the studio. He also ensured one of the technicians was present to take this video. May your soul rest in peace."_

A few pieces of paper are passed to her by someone off camera. She reads the contents before looking back up at the camera.

"_We are also getting reports from all over the world. North America is in disarray. All four branches of the United States Armed Forces have been deployed within the states however there are rumours that both the East and West coast have been abandoned in order to better fortify and control Central states._

_We have no word from any of the countries in South America. It is firmly believed that the entire of the continent has fallen or unable to contact outside the continent itself. We pray it is the latter however the remnants of the UN council believe the continent has indeed fallen._

_Europe apparently is reporting that there was an initially some chaos but order has been restored in most countries. Looting and rioting are still happening in parts of East Europe. The United Kingdom and Germany are showing strong stances, having closed their borders and responding rapidly. Government officials from both nations have stated that they will begin mobilising their armed forces to aid in the enforcement of order throughout Europe once they have stabilised._

_Africa unfortunately has been deemed lost by UN. Minutes before the continent was deemed lost, several state governments united to form the Confederacy of African Nations. The Confederacy then attempted to evacuate as many civilians as possible. However, sources confirmed that the evacuation points were completely devoid of life and there has been no confirmed report of any refugees from any African state._

_Australia is showing signs of turmoil. The Government of Australia, however, have given a press release stating that everything is under control with the exception of several hot zones. These hot zones are notably the areas around major Australian cities and ports of travel._

_Asia is in absolute chaos. In the Middle East, oil fields are on fire. Rape, looting and murder are rampant in all major cities. There appears to be no one attempting to bring order. The South Asia, Central Asia and parts of the South East and North Asia regions are reported to be as a total loss by the UN. However, there have been a few calls and attempts to contact us from our correspondents in those regions._

_East Asia and Russia are showing signs of anarchy. China's government have gone into exile while its cities burn. Japan and South Korea appear to be unable to handle the situation with the exception of certain areas. No news has been received regarding North Korea or Russia though our correspondent in the latter nation has reported that Russian armed forces were deployed._"

She stops and takes a deep breath. The anchorwoman now looks completely drained of energy. Yet she continues to speak.

"_That is all the news we have but we will try to remain on air for as l-Oh my god! They're breaking through one of the barricades! My name is Jessie Bowsher. Godspeed everyone. Stay alive."_

She looks right, looking for someone or something. She then turns her gaze to the other side, only to notice something and starts to scream. As she turns around to start running in the opposite direction, a hand appears and grabs her long hair. She falls to the ground backwards and a figure drops onto her.

_Oh my god! Get it off me! Oh my g-AHHHHHH! HELP ME SOMEONE HELP ME! AHHHH-_"

Blood sprays onto the camera lens before the station switches over to a 'Please Standby' screen. Shortly after, a short summary of everything that was reported scrolls across the screen, giving information to those who would happen to tune in to the channel.

If only there were enough people left alive to read it to make a difference.

ooooo

_Streets of Shanghai._

As the convoy of trucks rumbled along the now deserted roads of Shanghai, the weary and grimy men and women of Fred's team made use of the little 'quiet' time they had. Some reloaded magazines. Some take bites out of a bar of candy or granola they might have brought or found. Some try to write letter to their loved ones using scraps of paper and a shared pen. Some just close their eyes and try to fall asleep. What they were thinking, however, was anyone's guess.

In the one of the trucks, Fred was frowning. He was looking at the list of supplies Katy had written as they were loading the truck. '_Barely six hours and we've already burned through three quarters of the ammo the Blast has given us. With luck, there'll be a lot of ammo back in the armoury.' _Looking at the list, a small smile forms on his lips. '_Kind of the Blast and the Blitz to give us a weeks' worth of MREs as well as two full SatComm sets. What's this?'_

Pressing his earpiece, calls Katy who's in the truck behind him. "Katy, why the fuck do we have ten sets of Grade Ten CRBN suits? I know we're in one hell of a shithole but Grade Ten CRBN suits? And ten of them to add."

"I don't really know either Fred. I thought you just asked the Blast or Blitz for them. Now that you mention it, it is a little weird. Problem?"

"No. Just wondering. Do we have anyone who's trained to operate wearing them anyways? Hell, do we even have anyone who even trained to put them on?"

"There's Bill and Andrei whom I believe have operated in them on multiple occasions. I think Luther and Tony are qualified too but don't have the field experience. Also, there's Reyna who knows how to put them on and even maintain them but I'm not too sure if she knows how to operate in one."

"That's a good number. Think they can teach another five to use them?"

"I think they can. Though, those things need a fuck load of training and practice to get used to. And that's not including the field experience needed to be decent."

"Doesn't matter. No point having five spare suits unless we want to use them as parts. Which the Blitz gave us plenty of."

"Yeah. They gave us enough to keep at least five of them functional. If we ever use them heavily and they need maint-"

She does not get a chance to finish her sentence as the lead truck suddenly stops. All the other trucks behind it brake and swerve off to the sides to avoid rear-ending one another. The occupants in the cabs and passengers in the rear are all jolted by the sudden stop. Fred switches frequency to the one used by those driving the lead truck. "The fuck we suddenly stop for?"

A slight pause before someone from the lead truck replies with a flat tone, "Erm. There's something in the way sir. You might want to get down and take a look for yourself." In the background, Fred can hear the sound of someone vomiting.

"All right, everyone get down and stay alert. Katy, grab a squad from behind and come up to the front with me."

ooooo

"Holy-the-fucking-hell," says someone as Austin crosses himself. Behind him Thomas just stared, aghast that such a thing has happened. Next to him, Angelique is trying her best not to continue to retch. She fails and the dry heaves cause her to get down on one knee.

The six remaining members of B-Squad, plus one Fred and Katy, stood about a couple meters from the edge of what appears to be a total massacre. Bodies were strewn all over the road. As you turn your head from any direction, your vision was always filled with bodies. It did not help that there were the cold, lifeless bodies of little children whom stared at the sky with their glassy eyes or were lying in a pool of their own blood or presumably their parents', for those found in the embrace of an adult.

From what they can tell, the epicentre of the massacre was right in the centre of the large junction they were to pass. About a hundred meters from them, sat two Humvees with their HMGs pointed at them. It was the same for each junction, making a total of eight Humvees. The HMGs appear to have been used and devoid of any munitions. One does not have to wonder what happened to the bullets. Most of them could be found in either embedded in the concretes walls and road _or_ in the dead bodies found around the Humvees.

"Well, shit. The bodies, we can go over. The Humvees, not so," Fred points out to his little audience. "Mr Quincey, get your squad up there and move those Humvees."

"Sir!" replied Robert Quincey. The forty-four former airmen began to issue orders. "Wildcat and Yuex, stay ten paces back and provide cover. Everyone else upfront with me."

ooooo

The four of them moved forward, weapons raised, ever alert for any sign of life and potential trouble. Their boots felt slick and sometimes felt stuck to the road for a fraction of a second. If one looked down onto the road, you would notice it was covered in blood. A lot of blood. Most of it was dried up but there was still enough on the road that was wet and seemingly fresh.

One of them, Kendra N. Barton, a tall Irish lass in her mid-twenties with German roots, looks at some of the bodies.

"Ey sir. Now, I'm no doc or anything but a field med but some of 'em look as tho' they been chewed out or a'least involved in a freak accident. Hell, I think I saw one with his guts stickin' out. Notta mention all tis blood out here. Bes' part is it all look fresh."

"Shut it Barton. Keep your eyes on you sector," barked back her squad leader. He knew she was right. The corpses all had fresh bite marks and wounds and the amount of blood on the road did not match the number of bodies he could see. '_Fuck. The Irish lass is right. I'd be a tit for not listening to her. So the question here now is how the fuck did they get them and where the fuck did all this fucking blood come from._'

They reach the Humvee closest to them. Robert takes a quick peek into the empty vehicle. Other than the mass of .50 calibre round casings, it was empty. "Cover me. Gonna start this baby up," he says as he opens the driver's door and gets into the driver's seat. A little grunting, cursing, removing something on the floor and soon after the Humvee starts with a throaty growl.

ooooo

Of course, there is a certain law all militaries are aware and not above of. That law is Murphy's Law. As soon as the engine of the Humvee had started, a loud crescendo of moans could be heard. And like a signal, every door, window and alleyway was suddenly crawling with undead.

"Fuck," Fred muttered. He sets him comm to the general frequency, raises his weapon and motions to Katy, Angelique and Thomas to follow him. "Everybody load up. Trucks are to go straight once the Humvees are cleared. Mr Quincey, get the rest of your squad in that Humvee, drive it to the other end and get the other two out of the way now. Ms Miller, Ms Lamoureaux, Mr Jones and I will handle the other one."

"Sir!" was Robert's reply as the members of B-Squad who followed him jumped into the already moving Humvee. The chatter of gunfire could be heard coming from the Humvee as it went to the opposite side of the junction.

"Shoot only if they get ten meters close," Fred addressed to his small group, "Conserve ammo and for fuck sake, no heroics ladies and gentleman."

ooooo

"Fuck me!" cried out Austin, dodging an arm that managed to get through the window he was shooting out of. Despite his age, he was still as quick as ever. Luck was also on his side as the speed which the Humvee was travelling at was enough to tear the limb off its owner. Picking it up and throwing it out, he thinks, '_Fuckin' 'ell! Talk about lendin' a helpin' hand'._'

"Alright, we're here!" shouted Robert. "Two to each. One covers while the other starts. Once you've started the engines, drive straight ahead. The rest will follow. Move! Move! Move!"

Lukas Bohnen, a twenty-seven year old German former mechanised infantry, is half way out the Humvee when he looks at his squad leader and asks, "What about you sir?"

"I'll cover all four of you. Now fucking move you tit!" Before anyone can say anything, he pushes Lukas out and slams the door. He then promptly climbs up, loads the fifty-cal with ammo, which no one knows came from where. Then depressing the butterfly trigger, hot lead burst forth at about three thousand kilometres an hour.

The four of them just look in wonder as their squad leader lets round after round loose. Austin snaps them all out it. "You heard 'im! Let's git these babies a'roarin'!"

ooooo

Fred stares at the roaring machine gun, its user seemingly roaring along with it. He switches his comm over to a private channel. "Robert, where did you find that ammo?"

The airman's reply is barely audible as the sound of the machine gun almost drowns him out. "_Fou…ox wedged benea…eat…king PLA…on't fucking know what they…ing to do s…imes_."

"Well, once your team's on the move, haul your ass out too."

"_Copy!"_

The throaty growl of an engine starting redirects Fred's attention. Turning around, he sees Katy in the driver. She smiles innocently and asks, "Where to boss?"

Jumping into the front passenger seat, he replies, "Back to the trucks. We'll lead them." He turns around and sees Thomas and Angelique shooting out of the windows. "Keep your heads inside guys. Don't want to have someone decapped here when we're so close."

ooooo

"_Sir, got the other two to start. Moving now."_

"Alright. I'll join you guys." Robert releases the pressure on the triggers and climbs back down into driver seat. He takes a brief glance at the rear view mirror. '_Fucking hell. That's a lot of wankers I've pissed off._' The loud thumps on the Humvee reminds him he's also surrounded. Looking at front, he spots a group of undead dressed in PLA uniforms. He squints and says, "Fucking hell. You bastards are ugly."

He proceeds to floor the accelerator, ramming the group of undead standing and moving towards him. The bumps of going over them and the crunching sound of bodies being crushed underneath makes a dark grin appear on his face.

"Okay! B-Squads clear! Roll out! Now!" shouts Fred as pounds the top of the Humvee. He gestures all the trucks to follow him. "Pedal to the metal everyone. If it stands, run it over!"

The convoy led by Fred's Humvee proceed to roll past the junction. Undead were crushed. Brains were splattered. Bodies broken. Limbs thrown all over. Blood spurted all over everything. To say a mess was left behind would be an understatement.

Fred looks behind to all the trucks trundling on. He contacts each driver, all of whom give him a green light. He looks forward to see three other Humvees rumbling ahead of him. He lets out a deep sigh. "Katy, if we ever get back to London, I'm retiring on the spot."

She takes her eyes off the road for a second. She gives him a look which says '_Explain._' She adds a raised eyebrow to emphasise the question before focusing back on the road.

"Zombie apocalypse was never in the job description," he answers deadpan. A pause. Laughter from the two command officers then fill the Humvee.

ooooo

**Same day, different time zone.**

_Seraph International Main Headquarters, London._

The Chairman sat at the head of the long mahogany table. He looked up and down the eight meter long table. The Board was compromised of twelve other members. Right now, before him sat only five. He lets out a small sigh. The five of them looked serious as they all had recently finished a conference call with two powerful beings. He then address those gathered, "As you know, this is happening."

Behind him a projector comes to life and projects scenes from all over the world. The five present members look towards the projection. As the slideshow continued, the Chairman continued.

"We've lost a hundred and twenty four safehouses and thirteen regional HQs. If you have read the reports, that's approximately seventy billion US dollars' worth in investment, buildings and hardware. Assets, however, are all accounted for. So there are no worries there. For now."

The slideshow shows a satellite image of Europe. "Ladies and Gentlemen, before you arrived, on my way here I was contacted not only by Her Majesty, the Queen of England but the Chancellor of Germany as well."

An image of Western Europe then appears. "They wanted us to deploy our assets and hardware as soon as possible within their nations. I have taken the liberty of deploying whatever is available throughout the UK and Germany. All at a cost of course."

The image the changes again. It's the same satellite image but with most of Western Europe is highlighted in red. "You all sat through it. You know their demands. They know ours. The two potentially most powerful people left in the whole of Europe have just asked us to do so and even agreed to our terms."

The Chairman looks into the eyes of each of the five present board members. "I have no doubt our absent colleagues are still alive and kicking. However, we must vote now. All those in favour?"

The five members look at one another before simultaneously raising their hands to face level.

"It is decided then. We will spearhead the retaking of Europe."

* * *

A/N: I don't really like how the final draft looks other than the last bit. I might come back later to rewrite the whole thing.

Also, I realised that by the time Act II is halfway, we might have over _**THIRTY**_ characters. All of which I have to find 'screentime'. Wish me luck.

I am still accepting OCs and am looking for Beta Readers. Please PM me if interested in any of the two or both.

As always, please leave a review.


End file.
